


Toast Thief

by lindsaylaurie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Gen, M/M, Mostly Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsaylaurie/pseuds/lindsaylaurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas steals toast and then it ends up being a “Cas’ side of the bed” fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Right, hi I have finally gotten around to making an A03 account. This is a repost from tumblr, which I wrote at the prompting of tumblr user vands88, who was also nice enough to beta it.

Dean’s nursing a cup of coffee when it happens.

His hair’s tousled and his eyes are half lidded as he sips the hot liquid. Sam’s all the way at the other end of the friggin’ huge table, as if to demonstrate how much he doesn’t even want to occupy the same space as Dean. His laptop’s open and he’s navigating the track pad with one hand and holding a plain piece of toast in the other.

Dean doesn’t know how Sam can even look at toast with nothing on it. His own toast is so greasy with butter that it’s steadily dribbling onto his wrist.

In retrospect, that’s probably why Cas doesn’t go for Dean’s toast.

The lights in the bunker flicker. Both boys are a jumble of tense muscle, waiting to shank the hell out of whatever’s coming. Dean’s hand tightens around his mug and the sleepiness flees from his body. A second later, Castiel flutters into existence next to Sam. Dean can only gape as the angel plucks the uneaten toast right from Sam’s hand.

“What the hell man?!” Dean shouts, but it’s too late. Cas zaps away again, leaving behind an eerie silence.

Sam stares at his empty hand; his expression confused but growing darker.

“Did Cas just steal my toast?” Sam’s voice is thick with sleep. Dean’s secretly pleased that he’s not as awake as he seemed.

“Well it sure as hell wasn’t the tooth fairy.”

Sam lets his hand drop back to the table and mutters something under his breath that Dean doesn’t quite pick up. A little grin crosses Dean’s face as he takes a sip of coffee and rolls his eyes sideward. “Next time get your own damn toast, freeloader.”

 

Cas comes again in the middle of the night.

Dean’s curled up on one side of the bed, like he’s been doing lately for reasons unknown. He hasn’t had anyone in bed with him in forever and he’s starting to wonder if maybe he misses it. Maybe he’s waiting for someone, as stupid as it sounds.

Someone who blips into existence at his side while he’s got his head phones on and he’s half asleep.

Dean flinches, swearing as he sits up so fast he nearly strangles himself with the cord from his headphones. He rips them off his ears and switches on the lamp before turning to glare at Cas, who’s sitting cross-legged next to him with his damn shoes on and everything.

“Cas, what—“ Dean’s ready to tell him off, but is silenced by a single look of weary resignation.

“Sam’s sleeping patterns are unpredictable. I have observed him many times and do not think he would make an acceptable bed mate.”

Cas is all business but Dean’s not following yet. He’s still stuck on the fact that Cas’ friggin’ shoes are getting his sheets all dirty.

“Just take your damn shoes off and tell me what you’re doing here.”

Castiel obeys, taking the time to place his shoes on the floor rather than just throw them off. “I am no longer human but I find it useful to engage in a sleep-like state occasionally.”

The light bulbs start going off in Dean’s head but he still doesn’t exactly understand. “Okay, so?”

He nods. “You, Dean, have shown a recent preference for the right side of the bed and, according to my analysis, you hardly ever stray to the left.”

A weird chill creeps up Dean’s spine at the thought of Cas “observing his sleeping patterns” or whatever. He should feel violated knowing he’d been watched but somehow it isn’t as creepy as it could be. It’s just Cas, after all.

But it isn’t just Dean’s imagination. Someone else has noticed he’s been favoring one side. Luckily, Cas doesn’t seem to have any theories about it. If he does, he doesn’t mention them, he just settles down into the empty half of the bed while Dean’s hesitating.

“Dude!”

Cas looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twitching into a frown. “Is this not okay?”

Of course it isn’t okay. No matter how much his subconscious is telling him to fill the empty side of his bed, there is no way in hell that Dean is filling it with Cas. Still, with the angel looking up at him so innocently, what is he supposed to say? He can’t just banish Cas to the floor to do his pseudo sleep or whatever.

“Just for tonight,” Dean mutters, fitting his headphones back over his ears and turning off the lamp before lying down. Soft music filters in, very quiet, just loud enough for him to hear it. “We’ll see if we can make you up a spare bed tomorrow.”

There is an empty bed in Kevin’s old room, but Dean can’t bear to go in there and he figures Cas has stayed away for similar reasons. Dean makes a mental note to go through Kevin’s stuff sometime in the future. Way in the future.

“I will only be here for an hour at most,” Cas says, his voice a deep rumble in the darkness.

“Whatever.”

As Dean settles back in, he expects to feel awkward with Cas next to him, but as he rolls away from the angel, he finds that isn’t the case. It’s not that he doesn’t feel Cas there, ‘cause he does. There’s that weird aura that always radiates off him in waves, magnified in the quiet of the night. It slips over Dean like another blanket, quelling the buzz of negative thoughts that always linger in the back of his mind. It sends him speeding towards sleep much faster than usual.

Just before he drifts off, Dean thinks he might just forget to find Cas a bed. 


End file.
